


The Muttgicians

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Those People, magical accident, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: After Quentin’s first-year twin brother, Sebastian Blackworth, accepts a bet from a peer about who can cast the most powerful spell, Eliot and Quentin find themselves accidentally transformed in a way that may be permanent, unless Sebastian, Margo and their friends can find a counter-spell before time runs out.





	The Muttgicians

**Author's Note:**

> You can read the first part of the crossover, “Those Magic Changes,” here on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513553
> 
> This is for the @whitespiresarmory Writing Challenge, week 1, “Crossovers.” I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun. Comments and kudos are magic: enjoy!

The Muttgicians

By Lexalicious70 (all_hale_eliot) 

 

“So, what was the hardest spell of the year?”

 

Sebastian Blackworth-Coldwater glanced up from the drink he was mixing. Around him, the first years’ end-of-the-semester party was in full swing. Like his twin Quentin, who was a second year and had been accepted to Brakebills the year before, (and before each had known the other had existed,) Sebastian had been lumped in with the Physical Kids to even out their ranks. He stirred his gin and tonic as he considered his housemate’s question. He didn’t particularly like Devon Shea, or care for people in general, but what the hell, it was a party, and such social occasions required small talk.

 

“For me it was the thermogenic spell, where we had to control the temperature of that glass orb without it cracking. I was ready to hurl the damn thing out the window by the third day.” He sipped his drink, grimaced, and added a touch more gin.

 

“Ha!” Jay Tannis crowed from the couch. “That was nothing! I can do way harder magic than that.”

 

Sebastian frowned; the skinny red-haired first year annoyed him worse than a persistent fly at an outdoor Sunday brunch. Devon, already three glasses of wine into the festivities, rose to the bait.

 

“Piss off, you could not!”

 

“Yes I could, and I’ll prove it!”

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes and Tannis pointed at him.

 

“You think I’m full of shit?”

 

“If the toilet bowl fits.”

 

“Okay smart ass, let’s bet! You and me, Blackwater!”

 

“It’s Blackworth. Blackworth-Coldwater,” he said, even as he felt heat creep up his neck.

 

“Right, right. Your brother is a big shot second year.”

 

“Let’s not trade witticisms, as you seem woefully unarmed. You want to bet on what kind of magic you can do?”

 

Tannis sat up and swirled his tumbler in one hand. The melted ice inside flashed and winked as it caught the common room’s lighting.

 

“Fine. Here’s the deal: we each draw a third-year spell from a hat or bowl. Whoever can cast their chosen spell successfully is the winner.”

 

“And the prize?” Sebastian asked, warming to the idea. Being able to cast complicated spells made you popular at Brakebills, he’d learned that much, and leading his class in talent would set him apart from Quentin and maybe get him noticed by some third or fourth-year boy.

 

“How’s a hundred bucks sound, Blackworth?”

 

“Like you don’t know how to place a real wager,” Sebastian replied. Tannis scowled.

 

“Then name the amount!”

 

“$500.”

 

“Uh, guys?” Devon broke in. “I don’t know if we should—”

 

“You’re on!” Tannis reeled off the couch to grab Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian shook.

 

“It’s a bet.”

 

It wasn’t difficult to find the third-year spells. A few inquiries and several bribes later, and Sebastian found himself with a transformation spell that turned animals into other species, such as goldfish into horses, or horses into cats. Sebastian, his rival, and a smattering of first years met in the field near the school’s Welter’s board to cast the spells, unaware that Devon had gone to Quentin about the bet. Now, as Sebastian stood before a goldfish bowl that contained two small, multicolored koi fish, Tannis mocked him.

 

“Well go on and do it, big shot!”

 

“Shut up and let me cast,” Sebastian muttered, raising his hands. He planned to turn the fish into dogs because they seemed the easiest to visualize. He began to unpack the spell and was two minutes into the incantation when he heard his brother’s voice shout out from nearby.

 

“Sebastian! Stop!”

 

Sebastian started, turning at the shout before he’d even realized it, the spell building all around him. Quentin and his partner, Eliot Waugh, were running toward him. Quentin raised both hands to scrub the spell when it bloomed outward, freeing itself from the inexperienced magician’s tenuous hold and striking his brother and Eliot. The air around them rippled and then seemed to burst with large, luminous sparks. Acrid smoke rose up and Sebastian coughed, fighting for breath against the onslaught. He waved away what he could, blinking, and then his heart gave an unsteady whack before it crouched, slamming in uneasy thumps against his ribcage. It felt like the wingbeats of an injured bird.

 

Two dogs lay on their sides where Quentin and Eliot had stood a moment before. One was medium sized with fine tawny-gold hair and long, silky ears. The other was twice the size of the long-eared dog and jet black, its fur a riot of glossy curls. Tannis stepped forward, staring.

 

“Oh shit . . . look what you did!” He wiped a hand across his mouth and then fled, most of the spectators taking his cue and retreating as well. Only Devon stayed, his pale blue eyes wide and unblinking.

 

“Fuck,” He said at last. “Oh fuck, Sebastian!”

 

Sebastian walked over to the dogs, all eyes under the hand clapped over his mouth. There was no doubt to what had happened—Quentin’s messenger bag sat near the brown dog, and a scattering of rings—Eliot’s—lay near the black dog’s front paws. Sebastian scooped them up and shoved them in his pocket as he looked up at Devon.

 

“Go back to the cottage and get Margo Hanson. Do you know who she is?”

 

“Knockout of a second year? Killer figure, won’t give me the time of day?”

 

“That’s her. Tell her to come out here, that I’m—” Sebastian looked down at the magic-addled dogs.

 

“That Eliot is in trouble.”

 

****

 

“What in the Jesus H. Baldheaded CHRIST were you thinking? Are you really this stupid?”

 

Sebastian squared his shoulders against Margo’s onslaught. They’d been friends, more or less, since Sebastian had helped his twin find the courage to ask Eliot out and end their mutual pining. He could appreciate her cool, tough exterior and quick wit, but he’d never been the target of her ire before.

 

“No, I’m not stupid—”

 

“Look again, hotshot!” Margo snapped, pointing to the dogs that sat at the foot of her bed, side by side. The black dog’s amber-colored eyes rolled toward her every few moments and he barked almost ceaselessly, trying to form words. The little tawny dog sat with its liquid-brown eyes downcast, its long ears drooping.

 

“It was a bet, Margo! We’d all been drinking and that little sparrowfart Jay Tannis was baiting me, inferring that I only got into Brakebills because of Q—”

 

“And you believed him enough to try and practice magic that’s way above your pay grade?”

 

“I—not completely—sometimes it’s very difficult, being Quentin’s twin. We may have been raised by different people, but we wear the same face, so there’s no denying who I am! It’s like it was with my father! I felt like I had something to prove!”

 

“Oh, you proved something, all right.” She turned and put a gentle hand on the big black dog’s head. “Shhhh, sweetie, I know, I want to rip his throat out too,” she said as Eliot gave a low growl and shook himself. “but that’s not going to help. What we need is someone who knows how to reverse this.”

 

“You aren’t going to tell the dean, are you?” Sebastian asked. “He’ll expel me—he’ll mindwipe me! I’ll have to go back to Manhattan with nothing!”

 

“Hey, Blanche! Did I say anything about going to the dean? Besides, even if I was sure he wouldn’t kick you out, I wouldn’t tell him anyway.”

 

“You wouldn’t?”

 

“No. El and I have never entirely trusted him.” Margo plucked at her full lower lip. “Where did you and discount Ron Weasley get these spells?”

 

“I’m pretty sure he bribed some third years, but he ran after the spell went wrong and I don’t know where he is now.”

 

Margo’s dark eyes narrowed.

 

“That’s what locator spells are for, and I think I know someone who can help us persuade your betting buddy to give up some names.”

 

****

“You have to believe me—I don’t remember!” Jay Tannis whined, his puny hands raised in a warding-off gesture as Penny pinned him to a tree in the library courtyard with only his body language and the force of his stare.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Margo countered, admiring Penny’s talent as an enforcer. The traveler had been loathe to get involved until she’d reminded him that Eliot was the principal supplier of their group’d Adderall.

 

“I’m fairly sure Eliot won’t be able to make any deals as a dog, so unless you know someone who speaks Fido, we all have something at stake!” She’d told him, and Penny, who appreciated his Adderall, had agreed to help.

 

“I was drunk! I bribed some guy at a party at the healer’s cottage. That’s all I remember!” Tannis said. Penny stepped closer until they were nose to nose.

 

“Think harder.”

 

“I—man, do you know what he’d do to me if I gave you his name?”

 

“Man, do you know what I’ll do to you if you don’t?” Penny countered, glaring down at the first year, who was at least six inches shorter. Tannis cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“Okay, all right! It was Spencer Carmichael! He lives in the healing kids cottage near the river!”

 

“We appreciate the information,” Margo nodded at Penny, who stepped away. The redhead squeaked and bolted like a flushed rat and Penny scowled after him.

 

“Seems like him and Quentin’s spare don’t have the sense nature gave a fucking goat. You sure this is all worth it?”

 

“Q would never forgive us if we let Sebastian get expelled. Besides, they wouldn’t be first years if they had any fucking sense. C’mon . . . let’s visit the healer’s cottage.

 

Spencer Carmichael was, Margo observed, like a weak imitation of Eliot. He seemed faux bored with everything around him and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes, the smell of which didn’t do much to complement the odor of the rich patchouli incense that seemed to burn in every corner of the cottage’s common room.

 

“So I gave him the spells,” the handsome blond flicked the ash of his cigarette away in a disdainful manner. “It’s not my responsibility.”

 

“Except that one of those spells turned my friends into dogs!” Margo snapped. “So now we need the counter-spell to undo this abracalabrador bullshit before Fogg or one of the other professors finds out!”

 

“What will you give me in return?” The older boy asked, then grinned as Margo narrowed her eyes at him. “This is Brakebills, Hot Lips, nothing is free.”

 

“Call me that again and what I’ll give you is your balls in an imitation Fendi bag! Seems to be about your speed!”

 

“Violent!” Spencer chirped as he took another long draw on his smoke. “But by all means, threaten instead of bargain. After 72 hours, the transformation spell becomes permanent.”

 

“Fuck.” Margo hissed as she folded her arms across her chest. “Fine! Name your price.”

 

“Word has it you and the Physical Kids have portals to all the best pubs, all over the world. Give me access, and I’ll give you the counter-spell. Also, if the dean or any of the professors find out about this, you and that skinny first year don’t know me and we never met. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Margo nodded as she shook on it. Spencer gave her and Penny a smug smile as he went to a bookshelf and pulled a spellbook free. He flipped through it, clipped a page, and handed it over.

 

“I’ll need that returned as soon as possible.”

 

“Oh, I’ll try my best to hurry this along,” Margo drawled. Spencer’s answering sardonic smile was familiar, but seeing it on anyone but Eliot made Margo want to rip this asshole’s eyeballs out and use the tendons for garters. Penny was much more succinct as they left the cottage.

 

“What a fucking prick.”

 

“At least we have the spell,” She replied. As they rounded a corner they all but ran into Sebastian, whose short, dark blond hair stood up in spikes. His Brakebills blazer was torn, his tie missing.

 

“What the shit happened to you?” Penny asked, and Sebastian raked a hand through his hair that reminded Margo of the similar gesture Quentin used when he felt anxious. Sebastian’s hair was shorter, though, so instead of falling to one side, it now stuck out in tufts that made him look like an anxiety-ridden porcupine.

 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I got lost in that Goddamned hedge maze—” He swallowed against what looked like an extremely dry throat. “I took the spell to the library to see what I could find out—”

 

“What about Quentin and El?” Margo asked, and Sebastian made a dismissive gesture.

 

“I locked then in my room with a pan of water. I didn’t find a counter-spell at the library, but what I did discover is that we only have three days to undo what happened. If we wait too long, my brother and Eliot will be dogs permanently!”

 

“Okay, calm down White Rabbit!” Margo reached out and smoothed down Sebastian’s hair. “We’ve got the counter-spell, and we have plenty of time.”

 

“I can’t believe you found out who gave Jay those spells!” Sebastian said as they headed back toward the Physical Kids cottage.

 

“We were highly motivated,” Penny replied. It was nearly sunset now, and as the three magicians headed up the walkway, they heard a crash and a startled shout from within, followed by a woman’s shriek of either surprise or fright. A series of sharp barks followed, and the cottage door slammed open. Eliot and Quentin streaked from the cottage, yelping, their tails tucked, as a freckled first year named Donna Denker swung at them with a broom. The dogs ducked around Margo and the others and headed west, toward the school’s borders.

 

“No! Wait! Eliot, Quentin!” Margo called after the retreating figures. Donna frowned.

 

“Dogs aren’t allowed in the group areas! Those mongrels broke out of an upstairs room and attacked me!”

 

“They wouldn’t attack anyone! They’re not—” Margo reached out and yanked the broom from her hand. “You have no idea what you just did.”

 

“We have to find them!” Sebastian took a few steps backward. “Come on!”

 

Margo threw the broom at Donna’s feet.

 

“Here! You’ll need this for when you need to get back to Oz after someone drops a house on your sister!” She paused to tug off her heels and fled after Sebastian. Penny rolled his eyes but trotted off after them. The grass was dry but they could see where the dogs had passed and at one point, Penny nearly stepped in some fresh evidence and cursed as he hopped to avoid it.

 

“Shit!” Sebastian shouted suddenly. “Shit, wait!”

 

Up ahead, the edge of Brakebills gave way to a rural route that was used mostly by camping juggernauts and townies, and Margo’s heart dropped when she saw a hefty man in a khaki uniform slamming the back doors of a city vehicle. Frantic barking could be heard from within as the man climbed into the van.

 

“Wait!” Sebastian called again, leaning to one side as a stitch bit into his ribs. The magical barrier prevented the man from hearing, however, and he drove away with two stray dogs—one small, tawny cocker spaniel and larger black mutt with amber eyes—toward Troy and the closest animal transfer center. Behind the barrier, Sebastian, Penny and Margo traded stricken glanced as the sun went down and cast long shadows on the now-deserted road.

 

****

 

_Two days later_

“We’re running out of options.”

Margo raised her head from the flickering laptop screen she’d been staring at for what seemed like a major portion of her life, scanning local animal intake websites and looking up phone numbers for shelters in search of Quentin and Eliot. The spell would become permanent at sunset, in less than nine hours, and there was still no sign of them. The idea that they had been taken to some pound and euthanized that same day lurked in the back of Margo’s mind, the thought curled up like an adder, and Sebastian’s words only made it coil more tightly.

 

_They can’t be dead. Eliot cannot be dead, so just stop it, girl, stop it . . ._

“The city pound in Troy said their animal control officer picked up seven dogs that day on Rural Route 7. Two of them had to be Eliot and Quentin. They were taken to an intake facility that separates adoptable dogs from those that are sick beyond help or too aggressive to be adopted out. The intake place is mostly run by a skeleton staff of volunteers, so the records they keep are sketchy. Local shelters in the five boroughs accept dogs from there, so . . .”

 

“So that’s a huge area with multiple shelters, including ones run by unlicensed people who want to try and give strays a second chance,” Sebastian sighed. “Are you sure a locator spell wouldn’t work?”

 

“It’d work if they were human. But they’re under a spell, and it’s like trying to tune in a radio station in a mountain overpass. There’s just too much interference and the original signal is muted.”

 

“Then what are we going to do?” Sebastian asked, and Margo warred with her irritation as she opened her email. There was a message there from one of the intake facility volunteers with a link to a Facebook page, and she frowned. Facebook was a hellsite, as far as she was concerned, good for little more than the messenger app, but she clicked the link anyway. The page was from a shelter in Queens called Happy Tails, and Margo’s heartbeat quickened as she hovered over the “new arrivals” link. She scrolled down and there, sitting in a concrete dog run, were Quentin and Eliot. They bore collars—red for Eliot, purple for Quentin, and Margo ran a hand across her mouth.

 

“It’s them! Jesus . . . Sebastian look, it’s them!”

 

Sebastian crossed the room to peer over her shoulder, his dark eyes wide.

 

“Rufus (lab mix) and Jingles (cocker spaniel). Caught running together near the Hudson, in Troy.”

 

“Please God, don’t tell me they were neutered,” Margo muttered, but tears of relief burned in the back of her throat. She jumped up from the chair. “We need to make a portal to Queens before the sun sets and it’s a lifetime of flea dips and Alpo for Q and El!”

 

****

 

“Mommy! Mommy look, I want that one! The Lady and the Tramp doggie!”

 

Quentin raised his head as the young mother and her daughter paused at the door to the concrete run. His human memories and consciousness were fading with the day, and coherent human thoughts were now coming in brief sentences, tinged with confusion. Eliot had bayed and thrown himself against the fence separating them the first day they’d been brought here until the volunteers housed them together, and they’d spent two nights curled up with each other, shivering with fear and uncertainty. Quentin wasn’t sure how much Eliot remembered, but he was grateful that they’d been brought to this place together.

 

The chain-link door to their run swung open and one of the volunteers knelt down.

 

“This is Jingles. He was brought here with that black dog, we think they’d been running together for some time.”

 

_Jingles? Not Jingles—Quentin. Quentin, me . . . ?_

The little girl crouched next to him and petted his head. It was pleasant enough and he could sense that she was a gentle child, but he couldn’t go with her. He was a person, not a shelter dog. Wasn’t he?

 

Eliot stalked close to the mother and child and got in between them and Quentin, and another volunteer clipped a leash to Eliot’s collar and forced him back. Eliot tossed his head and strained against the leash as another clip hooked around Quentin’s collar and he was led from the run. He looked over his shoulder as Eliot began to bay and fight the leash as the volunteer clipped it to a metal hook inside the run. Quentin whimpered and tried to turn back, but the little girl picked him up.

 

“C’mon, Jingles!” Her tone was merry. “We’re gonna take you home!”

 

_No! Home Brakebills not you, home Eliot, Margo!_

“He’ll have to be neutered, of course,” the mother was saying. “And vaccinated.” She glanced over her shoulder, frowning, at Eliot’s howling. “And that one should be put down. He seems very unpredictable.”

 

“We plan to work with him, ma’am,” the volunteer replied. “I’m sure once he’s neutered, he’ll be much calmer.”

 

_New-ter . . . ?_ Quentin blinked. _New-ter—oh nononononono, vet bad no snip snip, no_! He wriggled and leapt from the girl’s arms, and she cried out after him as he ran back toward Eliot.

 

“Jingles no! Come back!”

 

Eliot looked up as Quentin raced toward the dog run. He’d already chewed through the leash, and one limp section hung from his collar. Quentin leapt up and pawed open the latch before giving three short, sharp barks to his friend. They raced from the run together, toward the open gate at the end of the row. A volunteer stepped in their way and Eliot bared his teeth at him, never slowing as they reached the gate. The kid yelped and stepped aside as Eliot’s teeth flashed and he and Quentin raced across the shelter’s yards, thick with dog pens, to the open road beyond.

 

“Shut the main doors!” Someone called, and Quentin cowered as the sound of the gates being pulled shut reverberated in his ears. Eliot rounded him, herding him in the other direction, where a low fence ran along the other side of the shelter’s property line. In the distance, Quentin could hear the little girl crying and the human that was left in him prickled with guilt,

 

_But oh no, no snippy vet no, bad, so bad_

but he couldn’t allow them to separate him from Eliot or let them do the new-ter.

 

Eliot was racing ahead of him now and Quentin knew he intended to jump the fence, but from his vantage point, it looked impossibly high. He leapt up with a grunt and began to scrabble up the chain link, his rear legs flailing. Eliot cleared the fence with one motion, but the trailing end of the chewed leash caught between two sections as he landed and he gave a strangled yelp of pain, his amber eyes bulging. Quentin toppled over the edge and began to bark in pure canine panic. Behind them, the sun began to sink. Eliot’s body writhed as he fought the leash, and then voices called out from behind him. The words made no sense, but they were growing louder and then _oh! Bright flash, so bright, are we die--?_

 

“Quentin! Quentin stop, it’s me!”

 

Quentin came back to his human self to find his brother Sebastian holding onto his hindquarters while Margo worked a section of frayed leash off a fence nearby. Eliot hung from the other end, gasping, his long fingers trying to work his collar—collar??—free. Sebastian gave him a shake.

 

“Quentin, look at me!”

 

He thumped down onto the hard-packed dirt and turned to gaze at Sebastian. His twin looked relieved, and there was a brightness in his eyes that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. Human awareness was creeping back into him now, and he realized he was naked, all but—

 

“Here, let me, uh . . . get that off you.” Sebastian reached out and unsnapped the purple collar’s catch. Eliot freed himself a moment later, wheezing and coughing. Voices sounded in the distance, and Margo looked up.

 

“Fuck, it’s the shelter people!” She opened a portal and all but shoved Eliot through, not seeming to care that he was completely nude. “Sebastian, come on!” She called. Quentin tried to get to his feet but stumbled, his canine mind rejecting the idea of walking on two legs. Sebastian threw an arm around him and half walked, half carried his brother through the portal and it closed behind them, leaving the collars behind as the last remaining sliver of sun sank beyond the horizon.

 

 

***

 

“Margo, I swear, if you make _one_ more ‘free to good home’ joke . . .”

 

The Physical Kids cottage was empty, all but for Quentin, Eliot, Margo and Sebastian. The other students had gone home for the summer, but Margo’s sources told her that Jay Tannis had left Brakebills after giving up Spencer Carmichael’s name and wouldn’t be returning. Now she smiled at Quentin as they all shared a bottle of Riesling.

 

“I have to admit, Q, you made one hell of a cute dog.”

 

“It’s not funny! El and I could have been dogs for the rest of our lives if you hadn’t found us in time!”

 

“And I think I have flea bites from that wretched intake facility!” Eliot scratched behind one ear. His rings, returned to him once they’d reached the cottage, flashed in the light. Margo reached out to smooth down his curls.

 

“Come on, we’ll go upstairs and I’ll draw you a bath.” She picked up the bottle of Reisling, kissed Quentin’s cheek, and then Sebastian’s. He blinked up at her and she smiled. It had many edges.

 

“Do anything that stupid again, and I’ll turn you into a goose so Eliot can make foie gras out of your liver. Got me?”

 

“Loud and clear,” Sebastian nodded. Margo and Eliot vanished up the cottage steps, leaving Sebastian and Quentin alone. Sebastian shifted in his chair.

 

“Quentin. I . . . you must know that I never meant for any of that to happen. I didn’t know Devon had gone to you and Eliot about the bet. I’m so sorry.”

 

Quentin smiled and pushed a hand through his hair.

 

“I guess I do know that. And I have to say, if you’d cast on those fish instead of me and Eliot, the spell would have worked and you would have won the bet. And that’s some pretty powerful magic. Even if you weren’t supposed to be using it . . . I’m proud of you.”

 

Sebastian sat up a bit.

 

“You are?”

 

“Yeah. You’ve obviously got the stuff. Just . . . listen, don’t let anyone get to you about being my brother from now on, okay?”

 

“How did you—” Sebastian dropped his poker face for a moment before putting it back into place. Quentin shook his head.

“I know what people say about you . . . about your adoptive dad. And about me. But it’s all bullshit, Sebastian! You have your own talent, and you’re an individual! You shouldn’t risk your magical education just because you feel like you have something to prove.”

 

Sebastian sighed as he got up to open another bottle of wine.

 

“I suppose I’m still reactive when I’m forced to remember the person I used to be. And I remember Charlie, and—” He filled a glass with a sun-yellow Moscato. “It makes me feel alone.”

 

“But you’re not. I’m here, and so are Margo and El . . . they like you.”

 

“Even after all this?”

 

“You wouldn’t believe how badly all of us fucked things up our first year,” Quentin smiled. “Especially me. They’ll forgive you, if they haven’t already.”

 

“How much do you remember?” Sebastian asked. Quentin reddened and drained his glass before holding out for his twin to fill.

 

“More than I care to! Being caged, the collar . . .” He lowered his voice. “. . . being named Jingles.”

 

Sebastian drowned his smile in Moscato but a moment later Quentin was chuckling. Sebastian sat down next to him on the big sectional sofa and raised his glass.

 

“To Jingles!” He declared, and Quentin touched his glass to Sebastian’s.

 

“To Jingles,” he agreed, and both of them sipped.

 

_Somewhere in Queens_

Their doorbell rang, and the little girl ran to open it. Her mother followed, frowning.

 

“Who on earth could that be?” She asked, watching as her daughter pulled the door open. The child blinked and then squealed as she knelt down to hug the tawny-furred cocker spaniel puppy tucked into a wicker basket.

 

“Mommy, look! Oh, look, it’s just like the one that ran away at the shelter!”

 

“But who . . .” The mother picked up the basket and flipped over the tag tied to one side.

 

 It read, simply, **_Love, from Jingles_**.

 

Fin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
